


The Bench

by c00kie



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Romance, west wing inspired
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 06:10:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,227
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11434788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/c00kie/pseuds/c00kie
Summary: Leslie's enjoying her lunch and the splendor of the national mall when he  sits down next to her, opens his take out container and answers his ringing telephone.- AKA the one where Leslie works for the NPS and Ben is Josh Lyman.





	The Bench

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired 10000000000000000% by the West Wing except has very little in common with it, except for Ben’s job and some to do about policy making. But it’s really just 3000 words or so of fluff. Enjoy! Thanks to bookworm03 for her friendship and beta. Enjoy!

Leslie's enjoying her lunch and the splendor of the national mall when he sits down next to her, opens his take out container and answers his ringing telephone. 

“Yeah... yeah. no. Tell them we want fifty percent and he won’t go below thirty.” 

At first Leslie tries to ignore the conversation and eat her waffle sundae, or at least pretend she’s ignoring it, but then she remembers the man didn’t even say so much as, “Mind if I sit here?” before he nearly sat on her lap. 

So she’s going to listen to his conversation and also, steal one of his fries. 

“Hey,” he says, eyeing her as if he just realized there was someone next to him, “I gotta let you go, the woman sitting next to me just stole my french fry. Yes, I have more than one. I’m hanging up now.”

Just for that, she steals another and grins as she takes a bite.“These are good.Where did you get them?”

“Sully’s. It’s up the block. You know, it’s rude to eat a stranger’s fries.”

“It’s also rude to sit down on a woman’s bench and interrupt her peaceful lunch to talk on the phone with Congressman Brexton Meyers but I’m not complaining.” 

“No.” He frowns. “You’re just eating my food.”

Leslie grins, then shrugs. “You really shouldn’t be compromising so much, by the way.” 

“It’s how we get things done around here.” 

“Yeah, but if you’re giving away all the furniture why bother having a house?”

“Um, fair point,” he says, giving her a look she can’t read. “I’m going to take it you know who I am.”

“I do. You’re Ben Wyatt, Deputy Chief of Staff at the White House.” Mayor of his home town at 18 for two years, graduate of Carleton College and the University of Chicago school of law. Worked for the Barkley group for three years, State representative for Minnesota for four. Political mastermind, and hunky dreamboat, she adds silently. 

She might have the article about him in DC life open next to her bed. It's no big deal. He's still rude. “You’re lucky you didn’t accidentally say any state secrets.” 

“Oh it’s fine. If I had the NSA would take care of you.”

She grabs another fry. Just because. 

“Seriously?” Ben asks, though he sounds more amused than anything else. “So Ms...”

“Knope. Leslie Knope.”

“Leslie Knope. What do you do?”

“I work for Grant Larson over at Interior.” 

Ben takes a bite of his sandwich and nods.“Yeah, I know Grant. He’s one of the best. Hey wait. Leslie Knope. He mentioned you. Said you were exceptional.” 

Leslie’s heart raced. Her boss thought she was exceptional and told the deputy chief of staff at the White House. She’s going to cry. 

“He failed to mention your obvious penchant for crime though. I’m going to send him and the FBI a memo asking them to review your file.”

“I regret nothing.” 

“No, I didn’t think you would,” Ben says with a smirk as she dips her next stolen fry into the whipped cream on her plate. Then he looks at his watch. “My assistant is going to call me any moment to yell at me to get back, but what are you doing around ten?” 

“Tonight?” At his nod, she answers. “Working late."

“How about you meet me for a drink? I know a place that has great french fries.”

She somehow manages to smile and say, “Okay,” even though she’s pretty sure she’s having an out of body experience. “I’d love to.”

“Great. I’ll call you. In the meantime, the fries are yours.”

It's not until he leaves that she realizes he never asked for her number. 

To her amazement, he calls at 9:45. It shouldn't shock her but it does. She figured with the kind of life and schedule he has, Ben would simply forget. And she was fine with that. Just being asked out by him was enough. But no. He found her number (or more accurately, made his assistant do it) and called. 

She tells her boss she's leaving and he smiles, saying, "Good, you deserve a night off." 

It probably says a lot that leaving at a quarter till ten constitutes as a night off. 

The moment she steps inside the bar she feels overdressed because there's loud country music playing and peanut shells on the floor but then she looks around and sees most of the patrons are also wearing suits so she relaxes and looks around for Ben. 

"Hey you," he says, tapping her shoulder. She turns and he's smiling. He's also lost his jacket and his sleeves are rolled up, revealing the tattoo so widely written about. The fact the deputy chief of staff at the White House was inked was a hot button issue for a while. She stares, unable to think of anything else than the interview where he said, "You think this is my only one?" before shifting into discussing policy. It was one of the sexiest things she's ever read. 

Before she knows it, she's on her second locally handcrafted beer. It's sweeter than most beers, tasting more like a cider. And the more she drinks of it, the more she relaxes and comes to terms with this night being real. She's really on a date with Ben Wyatt. He's really telling her about growing up in Minnesota. 

She's really telling him about Pawnee, Indiana. 

And after the drink, they walk around, Everything's closed already but it's a nice night and there's something about being with Ben that feels easy. And when he takes her hand when they cross the street, that feels easy too. 

"My car's just up the block. You need a ride home? Ben asks. 

Leslie smiles. "Sure."

"How was your date?" Ann asks, putting her book down. She's in her pajamas and robe, drinking what Leslie guesses is a warm cup of milk so she can sleep. 

Leslie kicks off her shoes and sighs, thinking about Ben's sharp jaw and ever sharper wit. "Amazing. What are you still doing up?"

"Late shift," Ann says. "I actually just got home too. And I wanted to know how your date with Mr. Dreamy Deputy was." She pats the cushion next to her. "Tell me everything. Did he kiss you?" 

He didn't, except for a kiss on the cheek that came with a promise he would see her again. When she tells Ann this, she makes a face. 

"That's disgusting." 

"Yeah," Leslie says with a happy sigh. "Okay, so tell me about your night. Did you have to pull anything out of anyone's butt?" 

Saturday night he takes her to a quiet Italian bistro where he's good friends with the owner, Tom. He treats them with a bottle of their best wine, though Leslie really can't tell the difference. 

"How do you know Tom?"

"Oh, he was one of the first people I met when I moved to DC. He worked for the Jefferson campaign, mostly as a way to make connections. I'm actually an investor and his cfo, but he never listens to me."

"What do you want him to do?" she asks, taking a bite of her bacon wrapped fig. 

"Add calzones to the menu." 

Leslie laughs as Ben glares over at Tom's direction. There's a lot she could say, that calzones are just pizza that's harder to eat, that they're pointless, but instead she says, "Why do you like them so much?" and the way his eyes light up makes it worth it. 

And when he's done telling her about his dream to own a calzone restaurant called The Low Cal Calzone Zone, he asks her what her dream is. 

"To run the National Parks Service."

"What else?" 

"To be President. And to solve a murder mystery on a train."

His eyes light up again. "Me too!" 

"Which one?" 

"Both, of course." 

And just like that, the crush she had on him is gone, replaced by something much stronger and deeper. 

The feeling only grows when Ben drives Leslie home and walks her to the front door, giving her a kiss that tastes like red wine and tiramisu. She wants nothing more than to pull him inside for more. The door opens though and one of the tenants walks out with their Bichon. 

"Goodnight, Ms. Knope."

"Goodnight, Mr. Wyatt."

On Monday, they meet at the park for lunch. He spends most of it on his phone, she steals his fries. Before he goes back to work, he says, "Have a good day, thief," before kissing her goodbye. 

On Tuesday she doesn't see him, but she knows there's a bill they're trying to get passed and doesn't fault him for not showing up. 

He calls that night though, asking if she's home yet. 

"I just put on my jammies."

"Yeah? What do they look like?"

"It's just an an old t shirt from college and some blue plaid pants. They're very cozy." 

"I bet it's adorable." 

"What are you wearing?" she asks as she climbs into her bed. 

"Right now, my suit, but give me five minutes and I'll be naked."

She can't help the moan that escapes her lips. "Is it true you have more than one tattoo?"

"Yeah. Three."

"I want to see them."

"Fuck," he says, with a low growl. "I want you." 

Just him saying that makes her need him there, kissing her, holding her, touching her everywhere he can. "I want you too. I can make us dinner tomorrow." 

"I'd love to, but the vote is Thursday and three of our guys flipped so I- What about Friday? You come to my place and I'll make dinner. You can make breakfast. I think I have a waffle iron."

She agrees, and then for the next hour, they talk about the upcoming vote and she tells him about her dream to plant spotted jewelweed along the red river bank in Arkansas. 

"You really are adorable."

Minutes later, they say goodnight and hang up. She can't sleep though, too wired from the thought of him wanting her. 

On Thursday, the bill passes. On Friday, she goes to his apartment and he makes paella and they drink wine on his balcony. And after the wine is gone, he takes her hand and leads her into his bedroom where the moment he takes off his shirt, she gasps. He wasn't kidding when he said the tattoo on his arm wasn't the only one. On his upper arm is a silhouette of Batman, slightly faded which makes her think it was his first. In contrast, the snowy owl on his back is still vibrant, as if it was just finished days ago. Its wings are outstretched in flight, the tips of its feather's touching Ben's shoulders. She traces each tattoo she finds with her fingers and mouth and he makes her see galaxies being formed in return. 

The next morning, Leslie can't find the waffle iron so she makes pancakes for breakfast. He comes in just as she takes the bacon out of the oven; his hair sticking up in all directions, his eyes still closed as he makes his way to his coffee pot. She watches, fascinated as he takes one sip of the coffee and his eyes open. 

But then she realizes the pancakes need to be flipped and turns around, turning them just in time. "Whew." 

Strong arms wrap around her and a rough chin scratches her neck, lips gentle on her skin. 

"Smells good."

"Thank you," she says, leaning into him as he continues to kiss her neck. 

"Mmm. You smell good." It's punctuated with yet another kiss. 

She removes the pancakes, placing them on a single plate. Ben's the one that reaches out and turns the stove off. 

"Thank you." 

"You're welcome," he says, and even though they should eat before the food gets cold, neither of them seem to want to move. She doesn't know if this is the start of something amazing or the end, but it's a moment she wants to stay in forever. 

"I can't help but notice you stole my shirt." 

Leslie cackles at Ben's grumpiness. "I did. What are you going to do about it?"

"Oh don't worry," he says, moving away so they can sit down to eat. "I have plans for you." 

It turns out his plans are to keep her in his bed all day. As far as punishment's go, it's a delightful one. 

"I have to tell you, if you think that's going to make me stop my life of crime, you're wrong."

"Who said I wanted you to stop?" and with that he flips her over. 

She spends the weekend with him. Saturday night she suggests she go home, but he says, "Do you have a pet?"

"No." But she's thinking about getting a cat. 

"Then stay," he says, pulling her hand. 

"Okay, well, Ann might-"

"You can call her," he says, giving her back a kiss. "Just stay." 

One more kiss is all it takes to convince her. 

Sunday afternoon though, he gets a call from the White House and has to go in. "I don't know how long-"

"It's okay," she says, straightening his tie. "I'll see you tomorrow."

He kisses her slow and deep, like he wants it to last for days. 

On Monday, Grant puts her in charge of next year's National Christmas Tree lighting. She's headed projects of her own before, but they were small potatoes compared to this. She'll have her own team to delegate and needs to work closely with the White House to plan the festivities. It's the kind of project that could make or break her career. Needless to say, she feels petrified. 

So she calls Ann in the restroom. In the background Leslie can hear a doctor being paged. 

"Leslie, that's so awesome! You're going to do great."

"Are you sure? This is a really big deal Ann. The biggest deal. It's like top five big-"

"Yes, I'm sure," Ann says cutting Leslie off at the pass. "You've been watching the lighting every year since you were a kid. You already know everything that goes into it. I don't even think the President could do a better job than you."

Ann's pep talk makes the butterflies ease, just a little. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Now I've got to get back to work. You want me to pick something up for dinner or are you going out with Ben?"

"I'm not sure. Pick something up just in case."

"No problem. Love you."

"Love you." 

At lunch, on her favorite bench, she brainstorms while Ben discusses a new policy initiative with someone on the phone.

He's also eating salad instead of his usual club and fries. She frowns, because she's just eating a hot dog from a vender and was really hoping to nab some of his fries. 

"I don't want to steal vegetables." 

"Aww. And here I was hoping I could trick you. So tell me what you're working on." 

She does, telling Ben everything, including how nervous she is. Ben though, just shakes his head and says, "You shouldn't be. You're amazing."

"You think so?" It makes her heart sing that her two favorite people in the world believe in her so much. 

"I know so," he says, giving her a kiss just as his phone rings. "Damn it, Ethel."

"I have to go too. I have a lot to do."

"You sure do," he says, kissing her cheek before gathering his things. "And I'm pretty close to the President."

"How close?" she asks, raising her eyebrows. 

He laughs, his brown eyes shining with so much warmth that she wants to look into them forever. 

"I'm not taking her to the prom, if that's what you mean. But as a representative of the White House, I know some people. I'm your in."

"I know you are," she says, and they kiss one last time before he leaves. 

The next day she gets so wrapped up in work she misses lunch. Her stomach twists as she calls him at his office to apologize. 

"It's okay," he says, then to Ethel, "Go get those signed, will you?"

"I'm so sorry."

"Leslie, it's okay. Things are kind of hectic around here anyway, I wasn't even there."

"Are you saying that to make me feel better?"

"Yes. But don't worry, I spent most of talking to Shauna Malwae Tweep from the Post."

Leslie pauses. "Isn't she your ex girlfriend?"

"Yeah, but that was a long time ago. I like someone else now."

"Yeah?" Who?"

"Just a cute woman I met the park. I think it might be serious." 

Leslie freezes and the other aid, Donna, raises her eyebrow. "I'm sorry about missing lunch. I want to make it up to you."

There's a pause but she knows he's smiling."Ohh, well in that case, be at my house at ten thirty."

Before Leslie knows it, it's nearly December. She spends most of her nights at Ben's place, so it should come as no surprise when he asks her to move in. 

"Really? Are you sure?"

"Yeah. I like you here. Also I'm kind of hoping that by you moving in I can get my t- shirts back." 

She's still laughing when he throws her on the bed. 

Regardless, she writes a pros and cons list and talks it over with Ann, her best friend, best roommate and best nurse in the world. 

"You should definitely move in with him." 

"Yeah?" 

"Leslie, you haven't be this crazy about a guy since…" She pauses and they both make a face thinking about Leslie's ex, Justin. "Also Ben is great and he loves you. So you should definitely shack up with him." 

Leslie falls onto Ann's bed. "I'd miss you though."

"I'd miss you too," Ann says, "but you know, we're both so busy and we barely see each other as it is because of our schedules. But we're always going to be best friends and I'm always going to love you the most." 

"Oh Ann," Leslie says, wrapping her arms around her. "I'm always going to love you the most." 

On the first of December, Leslie goes with him to the National Tree Lighting. She remembers her first after she moved to DC, having to stand all the way in back, barely able to see anything. This time though, she's in the front, standing next to two senators and only ten feet away from the President and the first Gentleman. To think she's in charge of the lightning for next year is incredible. And again, a little nerve wracking. 

She calms herself by picturing her and Ben up there someday, listening to the Marine band play. 

"It's getting colder," Ben says, his arm wrapped around her shoulder. 

"Too much for you, Wyatt?"

"Please. I'm from Minnesota. We don't get cold. I just don't want you to lose your cute little nose to frostbite."

She grins. "You think my nose is cute?" 

He pushes it with his thumb. "I think all of you is cute."

Leslie sings along with the carolers, listens intently to the reading of "A Visit From St.Nicholas," but mostly she just enjoys being wrapped up in Ben's arms. 

She thinks she could get used to this.


End file.
